Pansy parkinson, private eye
by HiddenBetweenTheLines
Summary: The frosted glass that proclaimed "Ms Parkinson, private eye" hadn't had a shadow other than her own cross in a good few weeks. So when the door opened, and in stepped a young woman with brown ringlets, she was so shocked she just stared... and stared some more. Surprisingly well written.
1. Chapter 1

This is going to be a 4 parter, with a twist at the end.

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><p>It was definitely a man's world. Pansy Parkinson knew that better than most, as a woman trying to make it in said man's world, in a dominating man's profession.<p>

The city was cold in the middle of winter. The river dividing uptown and downtown had frozen over mid November and had remained so stubbornly. It just meant that the dark haired woman held her thick coat closer to her slim frame as she rushed to her office with a coffee clutched in her hand. Her breaths, visible in the frigid weather, misted continuously around her clinging like smoke. Her olive green eyes were jaded to the life of a struggling adult. Her sensible heals hit the pavement hard on the gray streets until she got to the building that housed her office.

She was having a bad day. It had started when she had woken up in somebody else's bedroom (no change there) after 3 hours of inebriated sleep. She'd sat up, chucking her feet out of the covers to rest on the cold floor and rubbed the sleep from her tired, dry, red eyes. Her gaze had lingered momentarily on the long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, to the bare shoulder blades, down the nude back, to the cute dimples at the base... She'd stood, her body immediately becoming taut with goosebumps, her nipples standing so hard they were painful.

She'd dressed, not caring if she woke the woman she was leaving. She didn't wake her, but she wouldn't have cared if she had. She'd made it back to her apartment, and shouted at the shower for only spitting out ice cold water for all of two seconds before a grinding knocking sound came from deep within the pipes. No more water came after that, seemingly frozen in them stupid, idiotic, bastard-ing pipes... or so she had shouted at them.

Still growling in frustration she had walked back into her room and simply chucked clean clothing on her dirty body. She'd decided it didn't matter if she still smelt like last night's sex, wine and smoke, because it wasn't as though she was going to have any customers anyway. She'd pondered absentmindedly, becoming a high end escort. Simply because she could take home the best of them, as she had proved night after night whilst trying to hide from her dismal existence.

It was whilst trying to ram her leg into her pants that she had caught her foot in last nights' discarded underwear and somehow ended up on her back staring at her nicotine stained ceiling, wondering if it was truly worth going to work. By the feel of it, she would more than likely be struck down the moment she stepped out of her apartment building.

Surprisingly enough, she made it all the way to her office building, before a man unceremoniously barged into her, knocking her coffee all down her front, and then griping at _her_ as if it was _her _fault _he_ hadn't been watching where _he_ was walking.

"Bastard," She'd growled at him when he was a good 5 foot away from her and she was just heading through the secure lock door.

She managed to get all the way into her office without incident, for which she was thankful. Shaking her now frosty coat off of her slender shoulders, she threw it at the coat rack... missing it. The coat landed in a pile on the floor, but she neither noticed nor cared. She crossed the one foot of hard wood and 3 foot of green rug to her desk, before flopping down in the seat and hitting her head against the desk top. She was so bored of mundane life that she would have considered jumping through the window, but she doubted it would do anything but hurt a bit, she was only on the 2nd floor.

She was halfway through doing something really important (re-stacking the folders she had been playing with aaaaalllllll day), just after diner, (the remnants were still on her desk in a greasy wrapper) when her door opened. Her door never opened. The frosted glass that proclaimed "Ms Parkinson, private eye" hadn't had a shadow other than her own cross in a good few weeks. So when the door opened, and in stepped a young woman with brown ringlets, she was so shocked she just stared... and stared some more.

"Hello," The young woman's voice was soft and articulated, and Pansy found her ears prick, waiting for more of that beautiful sound.

"Hi, can I help you? Are you lost?" Our raven haired private eye asked her. In all honesty, she thought that maybe the young woman was looking for Mr Zabini, the photographer upstairs; or maybe Mr Malfoy, the Psychiatrist across the hall.

"I was hoping so... the help that is... I don't believe I'm lost." The woman closed the door softly behind herself, and crossed the space to the desk in three steps. She gently lowered herself into the seat in front of the desk, eyeing the abandoned meal momentarily, before her bright brown eyes lifted to Pansy's olive green, inquisitive orbs. Pansy grabbed the greasy wrapper, throwing it in the trash can, before placing her elbows on the desk, her chin on her hands, and leaning forward. It was a sign of interest, showing the new comer that she was all ears and interested in whatever it was she had to say.

"I seem to be having issues with my husband. I don't want to believe he's doing anything wrong but... a woman knows when something isn't right," That soft voice sounded as though she knew exactly what she was talking about. It couldn't be merely women's intuition that made her so sure, but Pansy remained quiet, allowing her to go on. "I would like you to find out what he's doing for me. I just... There's something in my gut telling me I can't trust him anymore."

"Well, Mrs..."

"Weasley," The young woman fills in, and that bad feeling in Pansy's stomach told her, her bad day was going to get longer.

"Mrs Weasley, If you feel like you can't trust him now, then is there really a relationship there for you anymore? Without trust its... well it's not a relationship."

"I just need to know. Do you want the job or not Ms Parkinson? I am sure there are plenty of other detectives out there that could do this for me?"

"Then why come here?" There is silence throughout the room as Mrs Weasley looks out through the window into the dismal day. She avoids the woman in front of her, not letting their eyes meet. Pansy remains silent, resiliently watching the smart young woman that was intruding on Pansy's quiet time... oh yeah, she was supposed to be working, and she did need a client to pay the bills... but she knew of the Weasleys. She knew of this woman, the genius researcher and political journalist. She knew of her husband... everyone knew of that ginger haired womanising oaf that played goal keeper for some up there football team. She didn't need the headache this could potentially cause her.

"You're a woman..." Pansy had almost forgotten that she was waiting for a reply, she had become distracted by those brown eyes that looked so sad as they gazed out of the cold window.

"What does that have to do with the price of bacon?"

"I just..."

"You thought that because I'm a woman I would feel sorry for you? Take pity on you and find out if your oaf of a husband is cheating on you, in some sort of sisterly comradeship?" Pansy's left eyebrow rose when those brown eyes shot to hers with fire burning in them. It was actually quite the intimidating glare, but Pansy wouldn't let it be known. "I will take on your case. I'll get you so much proof of whatever it is he's actually doing there'll be no denying it. If he isn't doing anything, Mrs Weasley, I suggest you go see Mr Malfoy across the hall and work on those trust issues."


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2... chapter 3 and 4 are written up ill post 1 tomorrow and the next the day after. I hope y'all enjoy.

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><p>Pansy Parkinson disliked a lot of things. She disliked London, its black cabs, grey suits, grey buildings, red busses... she despised congestion charges, the traffic jams, the motorbikes that thought it was ok for them to weave in and out of stagnant traffic, stupid scooters that sounded like cordless hairdryers. Yes, the slender woman, with her stuck up nose and airs of blue blood running through her, disliked many things. Of the few things she did like, and there aren't many of them... ok so there's five of them. Women are somewhere at the top, getting so drunk she can't remember her own name, never mind the name of whoever's bed it was she'd just crawled out of. She liked bacon baps, proper ones with the bacon piled high and the HP sauce smothering it. She likes lazy Sunday mornings where she doesn't have to slip her body out from under her satin sheets, but most of all, on top of all of that list, she likes teeny tiny old coffee shops with scattered tables, a corner full of squishy sofas, steam filled air from the ancient coffee machine and the buzzing atmosphere that meant she could people watch. In there with this perfect 'like', is a giant mug of mocha, topped with whipped cream and half a crumbled flake. It's what brought her to the coffee shop two doors down from her apartment every morning before work (unless she was running late) and every night after work (unless she'd got changed at work and had instead gone straight out on the razz).<p>

Her latest case was easy. She had it wrapped up, but she had wanted to drag it out, to make it last, because, unfortunately for her, Mrs Weasley had an adorable blush that made her want to see her more than was professionally comfortable. It wasn't exactly difficult for Pansy to get what she needed from Mr Weasley to incriminate him. The oaf was an idiot and didn't bother to be quiet about what he was doing. Hermione either lived under a rock, or worked so much she didn't really have time to pay attention to the news. People must think the woman simple, for staying with such a bastard. She was quite intrigued by the brainy brunette with those warm chocolate eyes. The woman was quite lovely to look at, and she wasn't sure what the ginger man would want to cheat on her for, although she couldn't really see what had brought the two together in the first place. They were rather different from each other.

The air in the coffee shop was thick with chatter, laughter and steam from the monstrous coffee machine. It was how Pansy liked it best. It was full of life. It was like a second home for the short haired jet head. On the odd few occasions she did have a client, she always met them in the hustle and bustle of that shop. She found herself people watching more often than not. She had always been interested in the behaviour of others. She liked seeing the distain on the faces of men in suits as they tried to ignore the caffeine high students lounging on the couches further back into the establishment. The small group of students pretty much haunted the shop, when they weren't in their respective classes. The students were definitely the most fun to watch, but she also liked the lonely hearts group that met every Thursday. They amused her greatly. They called themselves a book club, but what they should have been called were 'my husband's at work banging his secretary instead of me,' club. What amused her most, was 3 of the 7 women couldn't look her in the eye without blushing. She didn't care that they were married and that their lives were shams, she was in it for the sex not the emotional baggage.

"You look very smug for someone sat all alone." Pansy recognised the voice immediately, and turned a slow gaze to her client.

"I'm not on my own. You're here. Take a seat, please." The soft disarming smile was a part of Pansy's charm. It was built into her repertoire of easy ways to pick women up. She was like a predator, picking off the weak and needy. She didn't realise that Mrs Weasley wasn't either of these things. She watched the brunette remove her red pea coat and hang it over the back of the chair, before she seated herself and gave Pansy a long calculating look.

"So..."

"How about, before we get down to business, you relax a bit? Can I get you a drink? This place sells the nicest mocha in the whole of London." Pansy gives her that smile again and Hermione finds herself nodding even though all she wanted was to get down to business. She wanted to know if she had a future with her husband. Pansy watched the brunette and her frown from the counter, wondering how such a beautiful woman has any issues at all with men. She was distracted from her thoughts by the man behind the counter calling her name and handing her the mug.

"There we are," Pansy placed a large mug in front of the brunette, with a mountain of whipped cream and half a flake crumbled on top. It looked as though it would go straight to Hermione's hips, clogging up every major artery on its way down. She grimaced a little. "Live a little," Pansy grinned, not knowing that she'd hit a small nerve. She would have been amused if she'd known. She did like pushing people's buttons. Her eyes watch Hermione's, egging her on with a sly smile and a twinkle in her olive coloured eyes. She watched Hermione lift the mug to her plump parted lips, and she took a sip. Her eyes closed on their own as a moan left her lips. The blush that exploded across the brunette's cheeks had Pansy all but drooling. Hermione cleared her throat, putting the mug down so she could wipe the corners of her mouth whilst avoiding Pansy's eyes.

"That's erm... very nice." Hermione blushed as she looked at the mug, completely embarrassed with herself for moaning of all things.

"Very nice...? That thing is sex in a mug." Pansy grinned even wider, looking almost predatory as Hermione's blush deepened.

"Yes well, how about we get down to why we're here?" The brunette was trying to be professional, but every time she took a sip of that damned drink her mouth watered.

"Of course." Pansy said as she removed some photos from her satchel. "Well, you were right. Most women usually are when it's about their husbands."

"He was out all last night."

"Yes, I know, I was unfortunately there. The team went out for drinks after their win. He ended up taking some blonde bimbo to a hotel. Other than that he was a complete arsehole to the waitress..." Pansy showed the brunette the photo of him leering at the woman serving drinks. The second photo was him copping a feel of her arse. "This is the blonde." The next picture was taken through the window of a hotel room. Her ginger husband was laid between some strangers legs.

"Oh..."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Hermione replied and Pansy deadpanned at her.

"Funny. I was going to ask why you're with him. The guys a douche. He's a self centred, egotistical, womanising douche, and I don't understand why a smart woman like you would want to be with someone like that." Pansy said quite honestly. She saw the anger flash in Hermione's eyes, and thought for a moment that she had overstepped her boundaries. She thought Hermione was going to defend her man, but then a defeated look crossed her dark eyes and stayed there.

"We were high school sweethearts. We met on our first day, Harry, Ron and I, and we sort of just were. He was different. He was caring, kind, always thinking of me. He used to bring me flowers when he got home from his away games... We'd go dancing, even though he has no rhythm, or he'd surprise me with going out for meals, because he can't cook... Then things changed. We got married and suddenly I'm the person that washes pots, does the hovering, and washes his clothes. Suddenly I've become his keeper and he's off living the high life of a footballer. And don't even get me started on the lack of sex. I can't remember the last time he even bothered looking at me." Hermione finished the last of her drink before looking up at Pansy and shrugging. "I don't know why I'm still with him, except he's my husband."

"Have you tried being the one to instigate the intimate moments? I mean, my opinion is you should dump his sorry ass, but if you still want to make it work, you could try spicing up the bedroom activities. Some lingerie, maybe a game, or toy..." Pansy's suggestion just brought on another blush. They were starting to endear the woman to her and she couldn't go down that road. "How about I help?" Pansy knew she was going to regret this.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione Jean Weasley was an exceptionally smart, strong minded individual. She didn't need someone in her life to validate her existence, but every once in a while, she wanted to feel beautiful. She wasn't needy or clingy, and she didn't mind Ron having a separate life to her, but she was his wife, and sex should only be had between the two of them. Not her by herself and him with whoever he bloody well felt like. She was all ready for just dumping him. She was all set for ringing her lawyer and getting him to draft divorce papers. Then Pansy had that look in her eyes and suddenly they were shopping for sexy underwear. So there Hermione was, about to give Ron one last shot, and she was nervous. She hadn't been nervous about sex with Ron since they first got together, but she was. She was so nervous, she found herself flitting around the house trying to keep busy. She was trying to not think about what was going to happen, because she didn't want to get her hopes up. She wondered if Ron sometimes forgot she was a woman. Maybe he forgot that she needed to feel beautiful. She always put the effort in; made sure she always shaved her legs, her intimate areas... she took care of herself. She went to the gym to keep herself in shape because she wanted to be desired. She wanted him to desire her.

She felt sexy, with the corset hidden beneath her silk shirt and cashmere jumper. Just the idea of what she was wearing made her feel beautiful. Pansy had picked it out for her, saying the red and black would compliment her skin tone and eyes. She'd tried the corset on in the store to make sure it fit properly. Showing Pansy hadn't meant to be anything but wanting a woman's opinion on it, but seeing the other woman's eyes dilate as she looked her up and down had sent a thrill through the brunette. Forcing the thought aside she looked over the living room and smiled. Candles were scattered around the place, casting the room in a warm glow. It looked romantic. She didn't have much time to think about what was about to happen because she heard his keys in the door. He walked in, dumping his bag with his dirty kit in the hallway, and flopped onto the sofa.

"Hey... What are we having for dinner Mione?" He asked as he grabbed the remote and flicked sky sports on. Hermione just stood staring at him with her mouth flapping wordlessly. She didn't know what to say... She'd thought he'd come in and at least notice how nice the house looks. Suddenly she felt angry. She'd put effort in and he hadn't even noticed.

"I don't know Ron, what are you cooking?" She asked him. He looked up then, but still didn't seem to notice his wife.

"What am I...? What do you mean? I've been at work all day." He says as if what she's said is completely out of left field.

"Where exactly do you think I've been all day Ronald? Disneyland?"

"Yeah but..."

"But nothing Ronald. I was at work before you even got your arse out of bed. I've had two meetings today, made a breakthrough with Luna's research and managed to find time to clean the house from top to fucking bottom, so yes for once I was asking what you were going to cook for me." She shouted at him. His eyes were wide as he looked at her. He honestly didn't know where her anger was coming from.

"You know I can't cook Mione, and you're so good at it."

"Fuck you." And with that she grabbed her satchel off the hook by the door and headed out, not before shouting back. "And you can wash your own fucking football kit arsehole." The door slamming had the red head blinking. What had just happened?

Hermione was in a bind. She didn't know where to go. She'd stormed out of her nice large house, down her pretty suburban street and walked... if you can call the stomping power strut a walk... to the nearest tube station. She was suddenly very lost in herself. It was freezing outside, -2 and she'd fled without a coat on. She couldn't go to Ginny and Harry's because they wouldn't understand. For one Ginny was Ron's sister, and Harry his best friend. Plus, little Sirius would be asleep by now and she didn't want to possibly wake him. If it was any other night, she would have gone to Luna's, drank a couple of bottles of wine and passed out on the blonde's sofa, like the good friend she is. It seemed life was out to get her however because Luna had been waffling on all day about a hot date. She couldn't exactly intrude on her scatter brained friend, even if Luna probably would welcome her in and ditch whoever her hot date was. It made her feel rather sad that, that was the extent of her friend pool. She wasn't anywhere near as close to the rest of the people she worked with, as she was with Luna. She'd gone through college with the loopy blonde, shared a dorm room, and the odd drunken kiss.

The train stopped and she recognised the station. In a moment of blind stupidity she got off of the train without even thinking about what she was doing. The underground opened up into the smallest part of the business sector. Small private offices boasted chiropodists, therapists, private gynaecologists, photographers, artists, and her private eye. Her feet, in her high heels, because she hadn't thought she would simply walk out on the man, carried her as fast as they could whilst keeping her off of her face. Her legs felt like icicles encased in really thin stockings below a pencil skirt that ends just at her knees. She wondered how she had actually made it as far as she had, when her eyes lifted to the 2nd floor of a building across the road and a smile tilted her lips up.

"Hey..."

Pansy jumped in her seat, jerking her head up from where it had been rested on her desk. She wiped at her mouth making sure she hadn't drooled before she lifted her eyes to the woman that had intruded on her nap.

"Hermione... What are you doing here?" Pansy asked as she got to her feet. "I thought you had a night of passion ahead of you?"

"So did I... It seems as though I have turned into his house maid." The brunette flopped down in the high backed chair across from the private eye. "He came in, chucked his bag on the floor, picked up the remote and asked what was for dinner. I don't want to be the woman stuck in a dead end relationship with a man that likes disking around with other women. I don't deserve that, I haven't done anything wrong." Hermione says as Pansy fishes around in her draw. The ebony haired woman placed two glasses on the table with a box of wine. "Very classy Miss Parkinson," Hermione smirks at her.

"Yes well... I would have had a cliché bottle of whiskey, but I can't stand the stuff, so a box of shiraz it is." The detective smiles at her softly as she fills both glasses. Pansy hadn't been expecting company at all. By all rights she should have been home hours ago, but her eyes closed for a moment to allow a daydream to cross her mind, and when they'd opened... well her daydream certainly didn't do the woman sat across from her any justice.

"I jus... I jus don get it. I'm not ugly am I?" Hermione has maybe had a bit too much to drink by 1am, and doesn't wait for the other woman to reply. "I'm not fat... I have a sexy as fuck stomach... so I don get it. Why doesn't he want to touch me?" She let out a dramatic sigh as she looked into the bottom of her empty glass. "I'd want to fuck me if I was a boy." She says with an adorable pout plumping her lips up. "What do you think?"

"I'd... I'd give you it whenever, wherever you wanted it, if you... hick... wanted it."

"You look like you wanted to earlier." Hermione's grin was met with a lecherous smirk as Pansy nods.

"Yeah... but I'm not good for women like you. I'm a lecherous, egotistical, womanising douche." Pansy says and they both degenerate into giggles. The giggles passed and Hermione sighed as she leant forward across the table. Her chin rested on top of the dark oak desktop as she looked up at Pansy.

"What if I asked just once?" She sounded rather sober as her eyes studied the olive eyes of her drinking partner.

"I'm quite good at just once." Pansy's soft smile was almost sad. Hermione got to her feet, her fingertips pulling at the hem of her jumper, but Pansy's hands stopped her. "Not here," She whispered just a moment before she gently grazed Hermione's lips with her own.

"I've never had sex with a woman," Hermione whispers, as though speaking up would break whatever spell was working over them. Her eyes catch fractured glimpses of Pansy's bedroom, but only when she manages to pull her gaze away from the woman's eyes and lips.

"I don't mind," That soft smile completely disarms Hermione, and she feels herself sinking into the other woman. Hands gently lift her black jumper up, forcing them to pull apart for a moment.

The way Pansy touched her that night, the way she made her feel... the heat that cocooned the bedroom as Pansy laid the brunette on her satin sheets and made her writhe with a strangers passion. Hermione was so unlike what she had ever been, how she had ever been shown how to be... she suddenly felt like a passionate woman instead of the geeky bookworm that had just wanted to feel loved. Suddenly, with a leg over the detectives shoulder and the woman's fingers deep inside her, she felt animalistic. She bucked up, meeting every thrust, welcoming every kiss, reciprocating every touch... as the night turned into morning, the sun found her looking up into blown olive eyes, as her mouth caressed Pansy's most intimate part in a way she'd never imagined herself with another woman. It was addictive, the sound of Pansy's mewls of passion before she cried out, going rigid moments before shuddering into this languid panting pile. Hermione found herself whimpering at the taste that flooded past her lips, sending a dizzying heat through her. She crawled up Pansy's body, pretty much just lying on top of her as she watched the woman come down from her high. The soft smile that met her had her kissing her once again.

"That wasn't bad, for a first timer," Pansy breathed out and Hermione found herself grinning like an idiot.

"We've been at it for..." Hermione looked at the alarm clock blinking red digits at them on Pansy's beside table and grimaced. They'd arrived at the apartment at 1:45ish, it was 9:14 and baring cat napping between orgasms, had been having sex all night. "7 and a half hours. I don't think I can be classed as a first timer anymore. At least, not after that fourth orgasm," Hermione shivered as Pansy's fingers trailed down her spine until she was cupping her buttocks. "I'm late for work,"

"Call in sick, we can see if we can make this onetime thing last a few days," Pansy rolled them over until she had Hermione's hands pinned to the pillows. Hermione just grinned at her as she shook her head.

"That is very tempting. So very tempting... but I'm going to struggle with walking as it is. I need to go into work... Shower with me?"

"Sure... I'll even treat you to a mocha on your way out. Nothing beats sex in a mug at finishing off a night like that."


	4. Chapter 4

So this is the end. Its just a wrap up chapter, this was never going to be one of those epic pieces that goes on for months. just a simple 4 parter with a simple almost none existant storyline :) I hope you've enjoyed this little journey.

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><p>At the end of Pansy's 2 week client, the woman was a bit better off money wise, a bit happier in herself, and to make it all the better, sexually satisfied. Not only had she helped a woman cleanly end her sham of a marriage... Ronald Weasley didn't have a leg to stand on after the courts saw all the photographic evidence against him... She'd also put her name out there for all the wronged women. Believe me when I say, there are a lot of wronged women out there. Suddenly for her, it wasn't a man's world. The women were taking back their pride, their marriages, their passion and they were sticking it to the man. It put a grin on her face that was for sure.<p>

She didn't see Hermione again for a long time. There was no need for them to meet up, they weren't friends, they had simply shared a moment and they both knew it. It was over a year later that she saw the brunette, from a distance, in a poky little coffee shop filled with steam from an ancient coffee machine. She was sat on one of the many squishy couches with laughter on her lips as she shied away from a woman with an expensive Nikon. The other woman, Pansy noted, was exceptionally beautiful, almost to the point of making her eyes hurt. She had long silvery blonde hair, and eyes such an odd shade of blue they were almost purple.

"Ma Cherie, do not shy away. You know my camera loves you as much as I do," She heard as she walked passed them to get to the exit. The words made the ebony haired woman smile to herself as she just caught Hermione's blush exploding across her cheeks. She stepped into the smog of London, out of the happy little bubble that is every and all poky little coffee shops, into her dislike of the greys and blacks and reds, and dirt and graffiti and stupid motorbikes and ridiculous scooters... and she found she didn't hate it all so much today. She stepped onto the grubby cramped train; unable to move much further than the doorway it was so full. Her olive eyes watched curiously as a blonde woman ran for the train. She was running as if she knew the doors were going to close at any second, and they did, just after the blonde had jumped through the shrinking gap. It was in shocked awe that Pansy found herself holding the blonde tight to her front to stop her falling back and hurting herself as the doors met in the middle. Bright clear blue eyes grinned at the shocked detective.

"Thank you," The blondes smile was too bright, but it put Pansy's gentle smile on her face.

"You are quite welcome. It isn't every day you have a pretty blonde jumping into your arms." The private eye says to her gently.

"Oh, It could be, knowing me I will be late for this train every single day." The blonde replied. She reached up her left hand and offered it to the ebony haired woman. "Luna, Luna Lovegood,"

"I'm sure you do," Pansy took the offered hand and gave it a gentle shake, whilst making sure she kept her right arm around the blonde's waist.


End file.
